


Bump in the Night

by applejackcat



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluffapalooza 2015, Or to be fair pre-Rumbelle, Rumbelle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:23:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3343553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applejackcat/pseuds/applejackcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dark One is the most fearsome of all the creatures that go bump in the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bump in the Night

With grace and agility that came from centuries of practice, the Dark One slid from his world of shadows and chaos into the cramped, stale space under the girl’s bed.

The thrill of the scare coursed through him, and the Dark One wriggled excitedly. He barely managed to suppress a trilling giggle. How he did love a good fright fest.

In mere moments, he would creep silently from under the bed where the little girl slept. He would position himself at the foot of her bed, his manic eyes just visible the lump her feet made under her quilt, and cough softly. The girl would awaken slowly, uncertainly, to find his hideous little self waiting for her terrified wail. Oh, what delightful fun!

The Dark One shifted, and something sharp jabbed his thigh. Small cardboard boxes surrounded him, and he could feel a fat, fuzzy pillow by his right hand. Dear god, but today’s children were a messy breed. It would take careful maneuvering to slip out from under the bed undetected.

The challenge would make the scare all the sweeter.

Something rough and wet stroked itself across the Dark One’s right hand. He jerked upwards in surprise, smacking the fat, fuzzy pillow in the process. The fat, fuzzy pillow hissed angrily, and the Dark One grunted when it sunk several needles into his scaly flesh.

“Philipe,” murmured sleepy, lilting, womanly voice, “stop pouting and come to bed. I don’t have the energy for your shenanigans tonight.”

The Dark One froze. With no one’s company to keep but his own, he did spend a fair amount of time reading about the human world. He knew that the introduction of hormones into twenty-first century livestock sometimes triggered early onset puberty in the children who ate those animals or drank their milk. But should a young girl really sound so mature, so grown up?

His momentary distracted proved to be his downfall as well. Philipe the fat, fuzzy pillow turned vindictive and sprang upon him, sinking his claws into the Dark One’s leather-clad rump. The Dark One yowled and shot out from under the bed, dragging with him an overlarge orange tabby. He sprang to his feet in a fighter’s stance, prepared to do battle with this newfound feline foe, when the little girl on the bed cleared her throat.

The Dark One felt besieged on all sides. He wanted nothing more than to reclaim the night and prove his demonic fearfulness to the child. But he also worried that turning his back on Philipe would result in the ruination of both his buttocks and his trousers. So he staid in his fighter’s pose, his large eyes fixated on the puffed-up cat, and considered his options.

It occurred to him that the little girl should have screamed by now. What child could withstand the horror of an imp bursting out from under her bed, ready to fight her beloved cat?

Instead: laughter. Musical, breath-taking laughter.

The Dark One turned slowly on his booted heels and nearly toppled over and the blinding wonderfulness of the bed’s occupant. She was nothing he’d expected and perhaps everything he’d ever wanted: well into her twenties, lovely of face and supple of breast, with dancing blue eyes and thick waves of chestnut hair. And she could not seem to contain her mirth.

“Dear gods!” the woman cried, clutching her sides. “You are an unexpected guest. I didn’t realize Philipe kept his friends under the bed.”

The Dark One sniffed indignantly to cover the loud thumps of his wildly beating heart. “The cat is no friend of mine,” he snarled in his gruffest, more terrifying growl.

The woman just laughed harder. “Is that voice supposed the frighten me?” she asked him. “Because it’s just ridiculous.”

No matter how amazing he found the woman, the Dark One could not let her insult stand. “Forgive me, dearie, for trying to practice my craft!” he snapped.

The woman finally stopped laughing and looked him over, her head cocked to one side. “And what would that be?” she asked him.

The Dark One drew himself up, his mouth splitting into a maniacal grin. The effect was ruined by more laughter.

“Are you trying to frighten me?” the woman asked, practically clapping her hands together with glee. “Try harder! I promise to give you a fair chance.”

All of the fight left the Dark One when he saw the woman’s earnestness. “It’s no use,” he told her, slumping to the floor. “It’s all in the element of surprise.”

The woman made a sympathetic noise. “Philipe didn’t help you there,” she admitted.

“Damned cat,” muttered the Dark One, watching enviously as Philipe leapt onto the bed and settled into the woman’s lap.

“Now, I don’t mean to sound rude,” the woman said, “but why exactly did you hide under my bed to frighten me?”

The Dark One shrugged. “I’m an imp. It’s a living.”

“Imps enjoy scaring young women?”

He shook his head. “I thought this was a child’s room.”

The woman wrinkled her nose. “You sneak into children’s rooms?”

“To frighten them!” cried the Dark One defensively. “And nothing more!”

He peered curiously at his surroundings, wondering where he’d gone wrong. Though the bedroom bore the hallmarks of young womanhood — makeup on the vanity in the corner, posters for rock bands on the walls — he could also see touches of childish whimsy.

“This used to be a child’s room,” the woman told him. “My childhood room. I…I moved back in with my father a few weeks ago. Now there’s a nightmare.”

The Dark One felt his hackles rise. “Your father is a cruel man?” he asked. The man’s future well being depended on her answer.

The woman shook her head. “No, no, it’s not like that at all. I love him. It’s just, moving back home wasn’t in my plan. More than anything, it’s frighteningly disappointing. I wanted adventure and excitement, maybe the chance to be someone’s hero.”

Cautiously, the Dark One moved closer to the bed. “Have I satisfied your need for excitement? At least momentarily?”

The woman nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, gods, yes. I’d say for longer than a moment, too. You’re absolutely fascinating.”

The Dark One felt like preening at her praise. “I aim to make an impression, dearie,” he said with a flourish of his hands, standing for no other reason than to affect a sweeping bow.

The woman giggled. “You really hide under children’s beds and try to scare them?”

The Dark One smirked. “I don’t try to do anything, dearie,” he assured her. “Children find me terrifying.”

She sobered. “Must you frighten them? I mean, does something compel you to do it?”

“No,” the Dark One admitted sheepishly.

“Then why do you do it?” the woman asked, her voice curious but not condemning.

The Dark One bowed his head. “It must be obvious.”

“Not at all,” the woman told him.

“What else would I do?” the Dark One asked, gesturing from the top of his wavy-haired head to the tips of his high-laced leather boots. “Not all of us are fashioned to walk in the sunlight.”

The woman slid off the bed and came to stand by him. “You mean, you think you’re too ugly to do anything but frighten children? To live in the shadows and to only see other people when you cause them unhappiness?”

“I am not a person,” the Dark One reminded her. The woman’s nearness made his skin prickle and tingle.

“You look like a man to me,” the woman told him. Before the Dark One could stop her, she reached out and cupped his cheek with one of her delicate hands. He could not help himself: he leaned into her touch and sighed contentedly, the sound strangely close to a purr. The woman chuckled kindly. “You feel like a man, too.”

The Dark One studied her again. He looked past her beauty to the startling bravery that seemed to be the very essence of her. “What are you?” he asked.

“I’m a Belle,” she replied.

“A Belle.” Her name tasted so delicious to him. “You are not like anyone I have ever met.”

Belle beamed at him. “There’s no denying I’m a funny girl.”

“I would have you no other way,” the Dark One murmured, still leaning into her touch.

“I suppose, since you’ve found no little girl to frighten here, you’ll want to return to wherever it is that you live.” Belle said softly, dropping her hand. “Imps must come from the most fantastic places.”

“Hardly,” the Dark One said. “When all’s said and done, it’s a rather bleak place.”

Belle brightened. “Then you wouldn’t mind staying for just a little bit longer? I have so many questions for you.”

The Dark One bowed again. “I am at my lady’s disposal for as long as she will have me.”

Belle returned to her bed and sat, motioning for the Dark One to join her. “Don’t say that,” she warned. “I’ve a mind to keep you with me forever.”

He barely managed to still his tongue and stop himself from replying, “I see no problem with that.” Instead he joined her on the bed, longing for the return of her touch but unwilling to do anything to endanger her good will towards him.

“Do you have a name?” Belle asked. “Now that I’ve given you mine, it hardly seems fair to withhold yours.”

The Dark One might have lectured her about the power that a person’s name held and the importance of protecting one’s name from tricksters and deal makers like himself. He guarded his name with fanatic pride. Centuries had passed since the last person who knew his name died.

Instead, he found himself settling closer to her, near enough to feel the heat of her body. And without a moment hesitation he told her, “Rumplestiltskin.”


End file.
